Nevermore

                             And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
                       On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
                           And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
                        And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
                   And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
                     Shall be lifted—nevermore!